"If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
                                                                   - Romeo

*

My eyes, within a veil unfolds, by your hand
oh how eerily our bond, will surely Miss
Deceivers, of lies and truths, desolate or brand
to the letter guise and mewet, each other's bliss.